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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501188">Blossoms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly'>vipjuly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal's musings, M/M, Oblivious Will Graham, One-Sided Attraction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:49:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal feels many things for, with, and around Will. Regret is never one of them, as he tends to treat failures as obstacles to overcome, rather than something to mourn. </p><p>There... well. There may be <i>one</i> thing that fills him with regret.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blossoms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my first Hannibal fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Regret. </p><p>It’s not something Hannibal relates to. It’s not an emotion, thought, or feeling that he has ever, personally, encountered. There are few things that he would go back to change, even if he dissects them in his thoughts and examines the outcome--even if the outcome happened to be unfavorable. He does his best to keep center, stay focused; to think of every unfolding imaginable. His success rate wildly shadows anything he might consider a failure. But even failures are an opportunity to learn… a way for him to tighten his person suit and adapt to new scenarios. </p><p>At the present moment, Will stands in Hannibal’s office. His back is turned to the doctor, as it usually is. This first ruffled Hannibal. Since then, however, he has learned that Will is gathering his thoughts, doing his best to be composed and mentally ready for whatever Hannibal will say in reply to whatever it is that Will, himself, has to say. </p><p>This far into their relationship--and yes, Hannibal considers it one--Will Graham is aware of most of Hannibal’s secrets. Yet here he stands, exposing his vulnerability, physical and mental, for Hannibal to gobble up and find nourishment from. It’s always exhilarating, listening to Will. The way he thinks… how he processes his own emotions. When Will shares his thoughts aloud they fill Hannibal like a balloon in his gut, something that presses pleasantly into his ribcage, even down into his groin. A clear sapiophile, tit for tat with Will always leaves Hannibal yearning. </p><p>He has Will. </p><p>But not completely. </p><p>In any case, whenever Will’s back is turned, Hannibal can’t help but let his gaze wander. A gentleman through and through, he finds his ironclad will dented ever so slightly. His attraction to Will stems and blossoms so wildly and unruly sometimes it is hard to pinpoint a specific trait that truly draws Hannibal in. Knowing Will and he are alike… That’s one stem. Hearing Will’s dark thoughts, feeling the mutual appreciation of the more carnal tendencies, that’s another stem. His thoughts and his intellect and how, even though he suffers from social abnormalities, he commands a room when he asserts his voice, is another. </p><p>The blossoms, though.</p><p>A blossom is his curly hair. Another, his scruff--his refusal to be clean cut like a real FBI agent. Another, his body, coiled tight and strong and beautiful, his awkward attire and nervous ticks belying the true strength that lies within, the strength that only Hannibal has had the pleasure of witnessing. Truly and wholly, Will’s roots and stems are attractive on their own, but the flowers adorning them make for a stunning piece of art, the kind that Hannibal travels the world to find and finds himself disappointed with every piece he gazes upon. </p><p>“Hannibal.” </p><p>Coolly, Hannibal allows his gaze to wander back up Will’s body. He has turned around, hands still in the pockets of his chinos, his wiry torso camouflaged by a soft sweater. He wears his glasses today, his scruff is a little more unruly than usual. Hannibal knows not a single piece of man made art in this world could compare to the flowering man before him.</p><p>Will Graham is the result of God’s greatest care, in the body of a man with the wrath of an avenging angel. </p><p>“Yes?” Hannibal replies at length. </p><p>Will’s expression is neutral, though something dances in his eyes. He pulls a hand out of his pocket, using two fingers to gesture idly at his face.</p><p>“My eyes are up here.” </p><p>Quirking the corner of his mouth at the statement, Hannibal puts his elbows on the arms of his chair, reclining further. His voice is sultry, cool as water when he says, “I was just thinking about how delicious you will taste.” </p><p>Unbothered, Will puts his hand back in his pocket. He regards Hannibal with a quiet curiosity. “Confident of you to assume that I would let you kill me.” </p><p>Regret.</p><p>There’s that word again, flashing behind Hannibal’s eyes--not as an emotion, but a neon sign, blinking insufferably against the backdrop of his calm and cool.</p><p>Hannibal allows his eyes to wander over Will suggestively. Will’s eyes track the movement. “Who said anything about killing you?” His gaze rests pointedly on Will’s groin. “I only wish to devour you.” The images flitting across his mind’s eye supply him with what Will might look like naked, writing under him on his hands and knees, back arched, ass presented, Hannibal’s mouth eating him out like a gourmet meal.</p><p>Oblivious.</p><p>Will Graham is absolutely, one-hundred percent oblivious as he turns to walk across the floor, the soles of his shoes making confident contact. “If you continue to talk about eating me, it sort of ruins the surprise.” </p><p>Regret.</p><p><i>Regret</i>.</p><p>In that moment, Hannibal finally feels the emotion, truly and fully for the first time. It starts by popping the balloon in his belly, then replacing that airy sensation with lead. Pound by pound, it fills Hannibal nearly completely, the heaviness spreading from his gut to his extremities. His head is the last thing affected. </p><p>Regret.</p><p>He, for once in his life, regrets his title of being a cannibalistic predator--and sharing that fact with Will--because he just insinuated that he would like to put his mouth on Will, sexually, and the man brushed him off as though Hannibal were talking about a dinner party he was planning. </p><p>Will has stumped him. Taken any further words out of his mouth and tossed them carelessly out of the window without a single thought. Hannibal had predicted all of the outcomes of him voicing his sexual desire for the man, and this had been on the radar, though very small, barely a blip. The only option was to say it outright, tell Will Graham that he would fall to his knees for him, worship him with the mouth that he uses for destruction, powerful as it is, to bestow otherworldly importance unto his skin. </p><p>Instead, Hannibal blinks mildly, dispelling the emotion.</p><p>Another flower blooms.</p><p>It is Will’s obtuseness, his social drawbacks that sometimes remove him from even the plainest conversations. For all they can banter back and forth, quoting old texts and appreciating beauty in the darkness… Will misses the tiniest things. </p><p>It’s endearing.</p><p>Slightly frustrating, but endearing.</p><p>Dropping an arm in his lap to rest his elbow on the arm of the chair, knuckles against his cheek, Hannibal’s gaze turns fond.</p><p>“Tell me, Will. What have you come to discuss today?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hannibal's eyes really go 👀  when will's ass is in the vicinity</p></blockquote></div></div>
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